


Good ol' fashion nightmare

by orphan_account



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: (sandor is about 21), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/F, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Multi, Partying, Physical Abuse, Sandor/Sansa is endgame!!!!!, Sansa-centric, Slow Burn, and nothing makes sense because haha I'm bad with plotholes, characters have been aged down/up, like a lot of partying, takes place in UK, yes this is a really dorky love fic please don't read it if you hate love haha
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-24
Updated: 2014-03-08
Packaged: 2018-01-09 21:50:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 12,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1151193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"His lips felt so soft and she tried not to shake. She could taste the soda he’d had at the restaurant, still on his tongue, and then his other hand was at the back of her neck, gently pressing her closer.</p><p><i>I must have died and gone to heaven...</i>"</p><p>(A somewhat Sansa-centric fic, with PoV chapters from various characters.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> With encouragement from tumblr users Thecutestscribeinerebor (Tagath) and Thehound-and-thebird I've decided to try my hand at an ASOIAF fic, since I had so many headcanons for it. Additional headcanons (as well as ages of the characters, since some have been aged up and some have been aged down) can be found on my tumblr, guldfiskn.tumblr.com , under the tag "asoiaf au" or "au headcanon".

The house - though it was as big as a mansion - was slowly waking up. From the kitchen she could hear Ned quietly humming along with the radio, and down the hall Rickon was getting dressed. She could distantly hear someone getting into the shower upstairs, while Jon woke Robb. 

“Cat, have some breakfast,” her husband suggested when she followed his humming into the next room, though she shook her head and insisted she was not hungry.

Sansa entered the kitchen with her hair in a towel and her make up done, and Arya stumbled in still wearing her pyjamas. Jon made coffee while Robb played around with Rickon. They tried to keep their minds off it, Catelyn could tell, but she couldn’t. Before breakfast was done, Theon strutted in through the door without so much as a knock on the door, and sat down on one of the empty chairs by their table while they all ate.

Ned, Catelyn, Sansa and Rickon took one car - the grey one, their family car (which no longer held all their children) - while the older boys and Arya climbed into Theon’s black Toyota and followed the grey car down the road. 

The hospital was the same as ever, with it’s bright lights and uncomfortable chairs and the subtle scent of plastic, but she didn’t sit down until they got to the room. Bran looked so calm and solemn where he lay, pale and still as if he was dead but the monitor next to him told them he was not. Catelyn held one of his hands in both of hers - he felt so cold - and chewed her lip a bit as she watched his face. Jon and Theon stood in the back, but Robb put his hand on her shoulder. 

“He’s going to be alright, mom,” Arya said, and she sounded like she believed it.

Sansa fidgeted with her sleeves for a while before she kept her hands clasped together, as if praying, and her eyes closed. 

They’d been in there for nearly an hour, all of them talking to Bran (Catelyn wondered if he could hear them) when a nurse came in. They’d been here so many times already, the nurse didn’t need to say a word to make the family stand up and gather their things to leave. 

And just as Catelyn turned to look at her son one last time before leaving, the beeping sounds from the monitor became more rapid, and Bran’s eyelids flickered. She let out a wordless cry and ran back to the side of his bed, taking his hand again.

“Bran? Bran, can you hear me?” 

A nurse - a different one than before - put her hand on Catelyn’s arm, trying to make her move back, and Bran’s eyes slowly opened fully, finding her face.

His voice was weak, no more than a whisper, when he opened his mouth to speak. “Mom?”


	2. Sandor

The blond kid was probably the most annoying person Sandor had ever met. He never stopped talking, never stopped bragging. How that kid had landed a spot in the rugby team was no mystery: his uncle Stannis Baratheon was the coach. However, said uncle didn’t seem to hold much love for said kid when he made them all run several extra laps around the field. 

He continued to be insufferable throughout practice, though Sandor did feel a bit of satisfaction when the kid waved at the girls watching instead of paying attention, and then ended up flat on the ground. In truth, Sandor had noticed the girls too - a brunette, who seemed rather excited as she spoke of something Sandor couldn’t hear, and a redhead, both of them rather pretty - but he tried his best to focus on the game. It’s not like they had any interest in him, so there was no point in trying.

Even in the showers, the kid wouldn’t stop talking, this time about the two girls who had been watching their entire practice: “They want the D, totally. Did you see how they checked me out? Girls are so easy. I think the brunette is in one of my classes at uni.”

Sandor couldn’t help but grin as the ‘Star of the Team’, Loras Tyrell, raised an eyebrow and glared at the kid - ‘Joffrey’, according to his bag, since Sandor hadn’t listened to his introduction.  
“You know the brunette is my sister, right?”

Joffrey just laughed it off and got dressed, and Sandor thought that would be the end of it. When they exited the locker room to find Joffrey leaned against a wall, speaking to the girls from earlier (they were both far prettier up close, and Sandor couldn’t help but feel a bit uncomfortable when they both looked him over) Loras had to shove his way past the blond and ask his sister if that kid was bothering them. Like the rest of the team, Sandor merely stared as the girls both giggled and explained they’d been invited to a party, and not just any party: a Renly Baratheon party, the kind that can go on for days, with enough booze to swim in and never ending music. Sandor had never been to one of those parties (not that he wanted to), but he had heard that Renly’s house was like a nightclub at this point, with hired bartenders and dancers. He’d heard that the top floor in Renly’s building - he owned it, and lived on the second highest floor, if Loras information was anything to go by - was really just a dance floor and a club at this point.

He felt a sting of jealousy as he got into his old, rusty car and slammed the door shut, not regarding the party but rather the girls. The burns on his face was a curse, and he only wished there was a way of making them disappear without a trace. He reached up to feel the uneven tissue on the side of his face, tracing it up to what was left of his ear, when that Joffrey kid knocked on his window. Sandor rolled it down rather than opening the door.

“You’re cool, figured I’d invite you to Renly’s party too.” Joffrey grinned widely. “Actually I invited the whole team, but, you know…”

Sandor grunted. “I’m not the kind of person who goes to parties.”

Straightening his back, Joffrey shook his head a little and continued to grin a bit. “Whatever, man, you’re at least invited now,” he leaned closer to the car and lowered his voice a bit. “The girls said they’re both coming, and I can bet there’ll be a ton more at the party.”

When he finally left, Sandor chuckled a bit to himself as he started the car: everyone were always invited to Renly’s parties, nobody would be turned away from the door (unless they were too young, though sometimes youngsters got in too) and Loras made damned sure everyone knew it. 

Perhaps Sandor would go to this party after all. Call it a change of pace. The flashing lights in the dark top floor of that party might just make his scar a bit less obvious, and that was definitely something he needed.


	3. Sansa

A long day at university felt much easier when Sansa kept thinking about the party. Margaery had promised to lend her a dress - the short, light blue one Sansa loved so much, although she was unsure it would look as good on herself - and help her with makeup. Sansa knew her way around makeup just fine, but compared to Margaery, she was nothing. 

“Maybe you should be a professional makeup artist! You’re like a magician with an eyeshadow brush!” Sansa giggled when she closed her eyes to make it easier for Margaery when applying the eyeshadow.

Margaery smiled all the while, looking as secretive as ever the whole time. With her hair flattened and her makeup done, Sansa stepped out of her shorts and top and into the dress. It felt tight across the chest and snug over the hips, though not to the point where it hurt, and Sansa wondered how Margaery could even wear this herself as her body was not much smaller than Sansa’s own. If anything, Margaery’s breasts were bigger. 

“You should keep the dress, it looks better on you,” the brunette laughed, tugging slightly at the dress to adjust it.

Sansa laughed back, and waited as Margaery stepped into a black dress, shorter than the one Sansa wore but better suited to Margaery’s body. Theon, Jon and Robb all dropped their jaws when the girls passed the living room briefly, and Theon said they’d meet at the party later, but all Robb had for them were warnings: “don’t accept drinks from strangers” and “watch while they make drinks for you” and “if you’re drinking from a bottle, only accept it if it’s unopened when you get it, and keep your thumb over the opening”. Giggling, both girls took leave of the Stark household and slipped into Margaery’s car, the sleek silver Huyndai. 

Sansa couldn’t stop smiling by the time they got into the elevator of Renly’s building (Margaery said Renly owned the whole block), and during the trip up Margaery kept taking silly photos of the two of them. They could hear the music when they were three floors from the top, Sansa knew the song but she couldn’t hear the words. The second the elevator door opened it was like being sucked into a vacuum of space: Sansa was dragged out onto the floor, and she danced along with the flashing lights in the sea of people, and she was so happy she had decided to go to the party. Renly spotted them and waved from his place on a raised platform where he picked out the songs, and Margaery had to point him out for Sansa to see. 

She followed Margaery, hand in hand so they would not lose each other, as the other girl ran up to the bar - _open bar, how rich was Renly anyways_ \- and threw her car keys at Loras, who stood mixing drinks behind the bar.   
“Hey, give us something to drink!” 

Loras laughed and offered his sister a soda, but she insisted he’d mix drinks for them, and he made a whole show of mixing them each a drink. Sansa’s was sweet, and tasted almost like soda but then she could taste the alcohol, thoroughly masked with sugar. A few more songs, a few more drinks, and then Joffrey made his appearance at the door. Sansa tried her very best to not stare, and sweetly asked Loras for another drink instead. Soon enough, she felt a hand on her back, and she turned to look at him. Loras handed him a beer without a word. 

After a few minutes, Joffrey, in his jeans and his blazer, wrapped an arm around Sansa’s waist and leaned in toward her, lips by her ear. “Would you like to go out to the balcony? It’s quite the view.”

She nodded and let him guide her out toward fresh air. On the way there, Joffrey kept greeting people - friends of his, local celebrities and random girls - and a tall, muscular guy with a girl pressed up against him got a whole sentence.   
“Told you you’d have fun! Try to relax, man!” 

It was hard to tell in the dark, but Sansa thought he looked rather uncomfortable as he kept pushing the girls hands away from his chest and face.

When they left him behind, Sansa turned to look, but he seemed more uncomfortable than before and gently shoved the girl aside and dedicated all his attention to the beer in his hand. Come to think of it, he looked familiar. Perhaps he was on the rugby team with Joffrey. 

“Here we are,” Joffrey said as he slid open the glass door and let the fresh air into the room. 

And Sansa smiled widely as he led her to the railing by the edge and pointed down at all the lights below, telling her which lights were his house and how her eyes were like stars. Sansa’s whole body was butterflies and joy, and it was the most perfect evening she had ever had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Sansa-chapters concern me (both this and the next, I'm a bit stuck on that one). I hope it turned out decent though!
> 
> Also I'm trying to be patient when uploading these, otherwise it'll end with me uploading five chapters in one day and then complete silence for the next few weeks, but I'm a bit restless here.


	4. Jon

Jon forgot. 

He forgot he was supposed to be their designated driver when a tall redhead began to offer him drinks, and he drank, and he danced, and the redhead dragged him around the dancefloor over and over. Jon must have had more to drink than he thought, because suddenly he found himself on the platform beside Renly Baratheon. Renly didn’t seem to mind when Jon and the redhead took over for him, picking the songs - old ones, classic party songs from before their time - and dancing wildly on the platform with the redhead. 

Reality came crashing back when he did, tripping over one of the speakers and falling a good few meters onto the floor, face first.

Distantly, he heard Renly laughing through the speakers: “While I check on our guest DJ, feel free to grab a few drinks by the bar or continue dancing to a few newer songs!”

When Jon rolled over Renly sighed of relief and Jon could only laugh: he was too drunk to feel how bad it might have hurt. Robb and Theon lifted him to his feet - of course they’d seen the whole thing, gaping as Jon had danced on the platform - and laughed as they handed him another beer. Jon turned his head to the platform in search of the redhead, but she was gone.

“I think it’s time for us to go! Great party though!” Robb said, laughing and giving Renly half a hug while Theon supported Jon. “I’ll just go find Sansa.” 

Jon clinged to Theon by the door when Robb came walking with Sansa, her arms around his neck and constantly giggling and smiling. Robb didn’t say a word as they entered the elevator, but looked as professional as ever, with a slight smile on his lips.

“Drunk?” Jon managed, and Sansa began to giggle again.

“A bit.”

Robb got a hold of a taxi somehow, and with a lot of assistance the four of them all got into the car. The driver looked Sansa over - she was visibly drunk, unlike Jon who just looked like someone had run him over, Theon had informed him - and asked if she should really be going somewhere in this company, especially in her condition.

She just laughed, “Yes, they’re my _brothers_!”

Jon felt more ashamed of his own condition the closer they got to the Stark house, and he sunk into the seat when they arrived. Theon and Robb had to drag him out from the car and in through the house door, while Sansa skipped along behind them. Arya met them at the door in her pyjamas, eager to know everything about the party, and especially why they arrived in a taxi. When Jon took a deep breath to tell her, he instead ended up groaning and kneeling on the floor, and found that he had to breathe slowly in order to not vomit on the mat - Catelyn would kill him if he did - so Theon began explaining instead. 

By the time he was done, Sansa was still dancing around, and Arya eyed her. “Did she...how drunk is she?” 

“Not very,” Sansa laughed. 

Arya snorted. “Why are you acting so weird then?” 

“He kissed me!” 

Jon threw up on the floor to encouraging words from Robb and laughter from Theon, barely missing the mat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a joke, but at least I found it kinda funny! Honestly I like this chapter.


	5. Bran

The second youngest son of Ned and Catelyn Stark was hardly stupid. He would read his siblings like open books, and there was certainly something to be read about last night. However, it was hard to read when most siblings were not present. Jon was huddled up around a trash can in his room according to Arya. She had come downstairs to grab a glass of water for him and then quickly left to make sure he was alright. Sansa was supposedly in her room as well, and when Catelyn had tried to wake her up Sansa had just groaned and rolled over, complaining about headaches and begging for water. Robb and Theon were still asleep as far as Bran knew, Theon on a spare mattress in Robb’s room for the night.

They had been drunk, that much Bran could tell. Theon’s car was nowhere to be seen, so they must have left it wherever they were (and Bran felt relieved to know that they had gotten home some other way rather than drunk driving). 

“Bran?” Arya shouted out as she came down the stairs again, and stomped into the kitchen.

He gently rolled away from the kitchen table and steered his wheelchair toward Arya - who jumped up onto the kitchen counter instead of using a chair - and looked at her questioningly. 

“So, ready for some gossip?” Bran nodded. “Jon was supposed to be the designated driver, but apparently some redhead ‘seduced him’ and drank him under the table. Last night, Theon said Jon even got to act as a DJ for Renly Baratheon’s party, but I don’t know if I believe that. Anyhow, just now he noticed he had numbers written on his arm with a marker, and I think it’s the redhead’s number.” 

Bran gaped. “Wow, really? What about Sansa then?”

“Oh, she just got drunk and some guy kissed her, that Baratheon kid.” Arya shook her head - Sansa’s life was nowhere as interesting as Jon’s to her, probably since she was more fond of Jon than she was of Sansa

“Who, Joffrey? That’s weird.”

Arya nodded and opened her mouth to respond when there was a knock on the kitchen door, leading to the yard, and in came a boy of Bran’s age and a slightly older girl.

“Sweet ride,” Meera said with a grin. 

“Don’t mind her,” Jojen sighed. “Did you have breakfast already?” 

“Yes, why?” Bran asked, cocking his head.

“We’re kidnapping you,” Meera said with another grin, shrugging.

Bran looked to Jojen - his face did not betray his thoughts, it never did - and then to Arya, who merely shrugged and jumped off the counter. “Have fun being kidnapped.”

When the Reed siblings returned Bran to his home late that evening, he was given a quick lecture on being out late on days before he had school, and then sent off to bed. To Bran’s relief, neither parent seemed to noticed the strange smell that clung to his jacket.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Small nod to the headcanon that the Reeds smoke weed. A lot. Bran tries it sometimes - they'll gladly share - but he doesn't actually keep any of his own. I'm really unsure how to write a weed-smoking-scene though, sorry I kinda of...skipped a whole chunk of story, the chapter was originally just here for us to know about the numbers on Jon's arm.


	6. Sansa

She danced on clouds for days after the party, and every time her phone notified her of a text she grinned immediately. When Joffrey honored her with a phone call - he was in traffic at the time, and she could hear other people in the car but it didn’t bother her at all, she only heard male voices - and asked her out on a date, she squealed with joy and spent the whole afternoon trying on various outfits and sending pictures to Margaery for feedback. 

‘ _The red top with the black skirt_ ,’ was Margaery’s final verdict, since they would be going to a pretty expensive restaurant - the red top was one that Sansa saved for all the classy occasions.

Catelyn was so proud when Sansa came down to say goodbye for the evening, and Ned would barely let go of her when she hugged him. The red sports car was undoubtedly Joffrey, she knew the second she exited the house. 

“Nice car,” she offered shyly when she stepped into it.

“Nice outfit.” He smiled at her widely.

Sansa barely said a word the whole ride, but she was thankful for it - she worried she’d be sick all over his car if she tried to speak more. Anyways, she was happy to just listen to what he had to say. He talked a lot about his uncles, both of them famous (one for his looks and one for his voice, as the older uncle was an actor and the younger was a host for a local radio station owned by himself) and about his mother, but very little about his father. Sansa knew about his father though: Robert Baratheon was an old friend of her own father. She’d met him a few times, but since Joffrey didn’t have the same last name as his father she hadn’t connected the dots until Robb explained it the very night when Joffrey kissed her.

When they got to the restaurant he offered to pull her chair out for her, and once they were both seated he had a curious look on his face. “What about you?” 

She stumbled for her words, shaking slightly. “What about me?”

“Yeah. Anything. Brothers, sisters, friends, hobbies, plans for the future?” He smiled and leaned forward. “I’m curious, really.”

“Ah.” She thought about it for a bit. “Well I have one sister and three brothers, they’re all younger than me except Robb. And, our cousin Jon lives with us too, his parents...they’re not with us anymore.”

“Sorry to hear that.” He didn’t sound all that sincere, but he still looked quite curious. “Go on. What about friends? That girl you were with at practice, Margaery, right? How long have you known each other?” 

Sansa smiled widely. “Just a couple of years, but she’s so much fun, really. There’s also Jeyne, she’s the daughter of a guy my dad works with, she’s been my friend for years. I mean I have lots of friends but those two are my best friends, I guess.” She laughed nervously. 

Joffrey didn’t seem to try at all, his words just flowed forth from his lips - _those lips have kissed mine_ \- and Sansa shakingly tried her best to keep up, to never let silence fall. In Sansa’s opinion, she did quite well. Once the car entered Winterfell Street for the second time that night, Sansa could see her house. The car stopped just in front, and Joffrey took her hand in his and leaned forth. 

His lips felt so soft and she tried not to shake. She could taste the soda he’d had at the restaurant, still on his tongue, and then his other hand was at the back of her neck, gently pressing her closer. 

_I must have died and gone to heaven..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to all you disappointed folks out there! I know you wanted Sandor to be the one who kissed her (as did I) but be patient with me, the story is hardly over yet.


	7. Arya

Living on the second floor was not a problem, it never had been. She threw her shoes down first, then her jacket - climbing down without it was easier. Arya sneaked out through her window and across the first floor roof, and once she was on the very edge of it, she slowly lowered herself down, and lastly let go. Landing in the grass with a low thud she gathered up her things and put them on.

The red car in the front was unfamiliar, and when she crept closer she could tell it was her sister and that Lannister boy, their lips glued together. She made a disgusted noise out loud even though nobody could hear, and went on her way. At the end of the street was the old black car, waiting for her as she skipped to the passenger door and opened it.

Gendry gave a little shout - he’d been looking at his phone, not on his surroundings - and put his hand over his heart. “You scared me!”

Arya rolled her eyes. “God, you’re such a wimp.”

“We can’t all be as fearless as you,” Gendry mocked as he started the engine and drove away from Winterfell Street.

She just pouted at him and stuck her tongue out. The street lights flickered and went dark before they arrived at their destination, causing Gendry to drive even slower, worried he might crash. He stopped by a black house in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by trees and bushes. 

Arya moved to leave the car, but Gendry stayed in the driver’s seat. “You coming or what?” 

“I don’t know, can’t I just...stay out here?” he pleaded.

She sat down on the seat again and closed the door. “No. Are you scared? You don’t have to do anything, alright? No fighting, no drinking, no drugs. You can just watch.”

Gendry shook his head. “No, I just...he’s so...creepy. There’s something about him that just freaks me out.” 

Arya just laughed at him, messed up his hair and left the car to go inside. The windows were all dark, curtains closed, but she could hear the music. When she reached the door she knocked twice and when a large, bald man opened the door she turned to look for Gendry, only to find him right behind her. 

“Arya, Gendry,” the man mumbled hoarsely and let them both in. 

She headed straight for the basement, but Gendry hesitated again at the top of the stairs. “Can’t we just go home? We could watch a movie or something, I’ll buy snacks on the way back. Please?” 

“You promised, Gendry. Don’t chicken out now,” Arya said with a frown. “We don’t have to be here long, but he invited us, so I think we should at least stay and say hello.”

Gendry nodded and took a deep breath.

“Besides, I hear Jaquen’s got The Mountain fighting two other guys at once. I hope he loses.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arya you little shit. Don't get into trouble! 
> 
> I'm a little worried about where this is going...I'm hoping Arya's side story won't get too dark...


	8. Sandor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: I completely forgot to write "Sandor" as the chapter name, sorry about that!

He was woken up by the loud slam of the door closing. _He’s home_.

Sandor did his best to dress quickly, a pair of old jeans and a washed out shirt that used to be black. He waited until he heard Gregor’s bedroom door close before he left his own room, patting his pockets to make sure he had his car keys (he briefly noted the smear of blood on Gregor’s door handle). Sneaking down the stairs was difficult for someone his size, but he thought he managed pretty well. From the living room he heard loud snoring, and he paused for a second before exiting the house. 

When he started the car he took a second to wonder where he’d go. He didn’t have work today, rugby practice wasn’t for another few hours. Sighing, he decided that Joffrey was less of a prick than he had first thought - he was trying so hard to befriend the team, and Sandor had to admit that he was a bit curious about Joffrey’s date with the pretty redhead. So he sent the kid a text and drove over to his house.

At the door he was greeted by a dark haired woman who merely looked at him questioningly. 

Sandor was unsure what to say, so he just mumbled that he was there to see Joffrey, and she nodded and stepped aside to let him in. Joffrey met him just inside, yawning, his hair all messed up after sleeping but already dressed.

“What are you doing here?” 

“Standing.” Sandor glared at him.

Joffrey yawned again. “Whatever. Want some breakfast?” 

The kid led him to the kitchen, where a blonde woman - Joffrey’s mother, Sandor guessed - stood sipping a glass of juice. She gave her son a smile and then looked at Sandor. He was no expert, but the smile she gave him was undoubtedly fake. Joffrey sat down at the table and began serving himself, and Sandor followed his lead. Both of them were quiet for a good long time, until Joffrey’s mother left and Sandor realized he would fall asleep if the silence continued.

“So, date with the redhead, what’s her name?”

“Sansa,” Joffrey offered with a mouth full of toast. 

“Yeah. How’d it go?”

“Decent,” he laughed. “I mean she wouldn’t blow me and she talked quite a bit but whatever, it was pretty fun.” 

Sandor raised an eyebrow. “Really? What did you two talk about anyways? I wouldn’t have guessed you two had a lot in common.” 

At this, Joffrey laughed even more and shook his head. “Whatever, dude. Girls don’t care if you have anything in common with them. They don’t care if you talk, as long as you look like you’re paying attention. All girls ever want is your attention, your money and your dick.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Joff's more of a dick than he lets people know, I suppose.
> 
> Also I was really worried about ruining the whole fic with Sandor being uncharacteristically "up in Joff's space" but think about it: Sandor doesn't really have a lot of friends. He's kind of a loner. He probably sneaks off to avoid Gregor really often but he wanted breakfast, so he went where breakfast was.


	9. Sansa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Over 2000 hits on this fic now! Yay!

Margaery laughed and grabbed a handful of chips. “So for how long did you kiss?” 

“I-I don’t know,” Sansa hesitated, “it felt like hours and at the same time it was way too short.” 

“Oh, how romantic.” Margaery laid down on the bed, grinning up at her friend. “When’s the wedding?” 

Sansa rolled her eyes, but smiled nonetheless. “Very funny.” 

The two of them turned their attention to the TV on Sansa’s dresser just in time for the kissing scene in some movie that was on one of the channels, and from the brunette behind Sansa came a few loud kissing sounds.

“Margaery!” 

She frowned. “It wasn’t me, honestly. It was my phone. That’s my notification sound.” Margaery pulled her phone from her bra - Sansa had told her several times you could get cancer from that, not to mention how stupid it looked, but it was very convenient. “Oh.”

The redhead tried to peek at Margaery’s phone, but her friend was too quick and rolled away. “What does it say?” 

A deep sigh. “Renly wants us to come over. It’s not a party, but he says ‘there are way too few girls here’. I’m pretty sure that’s his friends talking, not him.” Renly wasn’t even interested in girls as far as Sansa knew, so surely Margaery was right about that. “Do you want to go?” 

“Can I bring Joffrey?” 

“I’ll ask.”

Despite it not being a party, the two of them spent a good thirty minutes on choosing which clothes to wear, moving nearly all of Sansa’s clothes from her wardrobe to her bed. Sansa put her own hair up in a ponytail while Margaery kept hers as it was, in a bun. The two of them left the house after a quick questioning by Robb, who had been honored to take Ned and Catelyn’s place as guardian of the Stark House, as the Stark parents were out on a date. 

“Where are you going?” and “How long will you be gone?” and “Do I need to pick you up?” and “Will there be drinking?”. Margaery had simply told him they were going to Renly’s apartment, and Robb had nodded in understanding - he’d been invited as well, but had declined the invitation in order to stay at home and play videogames (with Theon and Jon).

Sansa giggled as she saw the red car pull up on the driveway, and the two of them quickly reached the car. Just before opening the passenger door in the front, she realized the seat was taken, and with a smile she sat in the back instead. She recognized the guy in the passenger seat though, and she was almost entirely sure it was the one Joffrey had greeted at the party. 

“Hey girls,” Joffrey greeted with a grin, and then gestured to the other passenger. “Sandor Clegane. Sansa, you met him once, remember? He’s on the rugby team, and he was at that party last week.”

Did he always have a scar covering half his face? She figured it had simply been too dark to see it when they met at the party.


	10. Sandor

Something about having the two girls in the back seat made him terribly uncomfortable. It was as though he suddenly didn’t know what to do with his hands, twisting them until he decided to stuff them into his pocket. His skin itched a little, his scar even more. The car was too warm but the air conditioning was on. The whole drive to Renly’s apartment building - he owned the whole thing, partied on the top floor and lived on the next - Sandor sat unnaturally still.

“What’s wrong, the girls making you nervous?” Joffrey laughed, and Sandor merely mumbled his response, lying about how the girls didn’t bother him at all.

The elevator ride up was nearly as uncomfortable, even though Sansa and her friend talked nearly the whole time, gossiping about someone from their university. Joffrey took part in the conversation, Sandor stood silently with his hands in his pockets.

‘Not a party’, Joffrey said that Renly had told Margaery, who told Sansa, who told Joffrey. It looked quite like a party according to Sandor. Renly’s own apartment was brighter than the top floor, with two large living rooms (whatever someone who lives alone might use two living rooms at once for), several bedrooms, at least one office, God knows how many bathrooms, a very nice kitchen and the biggest dining room Sandor had ever seen. The whole apartment was filled with guys Sandor’s age, most of them drinking beer - they all greeted the newcomers, even though they were strangers - and a few girls as well, most of them dressed as Sansa and Margaery, in clothes you might wear when you’re shopping, or visiting your relatives, or going to school, but not clothes made for parties.

When the four of them entered one of the living rooms, Renly leapt up from his place on the sofa where he’d been watching Loras and a another rugby player named Meryn Trant play video games. “About time! You guys are so slow sometimes,” he teased, offering Margaery and Sansa hugs while he shook hands with both of the boys.

“Balcony, mind if I smoke there?” Sandor asked.

Renly smiled widely, as he always did. “No, go ahead, I’ve even got an ashtray out there.”

Fidgeting with his pack of cigarettes, Sandor felt thankful that Renly’s balcony had a roof; the rain must have started right after they entered the building. At the other end stood a pair of girls, both of them smoking as well, but the balcony was so spacious he could ignore them with ease. Turning his back to the girls - and the door - he lit his cigarette and leaned over the railing. _What a view._

There was a gentle tap on his shoulder, and when he turned his head, still leaning on the rail, he expected it to be one of the two girls smoking, but instead Joffrey’s redhead shyly smiled up at him. “Sorry, I just wanted to...introduce myself, I guess. I mean you already know my name and all but…” 

Sandor raised an eyebrow - his only eyebrow, seeing as how the other can’t grow on the scar tissue that covered half his face - and glanced down at her hand, reached out to shake his. He didn’t say anything as he shook her hand and then turned his head back to looking at the tiny people below and the lights in the distance.

“So, you’re Joffrey’s friend? You’re on the team together? How long have you known each other?” She smiled and leaned over the railing as well, looking at his face as she paused.

It did bother him a bit that she was on the wrong side, facing his scar. “Maybe an hour longer than you’ve known him,” he grunted back.

“Cool, so...do you go to university, or do you have a job or something?” 

“Yeah.” 

Now she looked a bit confused, and Sandor couldn’t help but smile a bit, hoping she didn’t see it. She didn’t seem able to come up with a response to that, opening and closing her mouth. 

“Do you want a smoke?” he asked gruffly, and he realized he sounded a bit annoyed with her questioning.

“No thank you, I don’t smoke. Not that there’s-...I don’t mind that other people do…” Sansa looked incredibly uncomfortable now, not even looking at him as she spoke. “I think I’ll go back inside. It was nice to talk to you.” 

Sandor snorted, put out the stump of his cigarette and lit a new one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What a charmer, eh?
> 
> I kinda liked this chapter while writing it, it was pretty fun even though Renly and his impossible fabulousness is just so weird. How did he get all that money? Why does he own that building? Why does he use both of the top two floors? Why does he have so many rooms?   
> Honestly, what's up with Renly?


	11. Arya

Gendry hadn’t said a word since to her all night, but she knew he was still thinking about the bleeding men, coughing on the floor as Gregor beat them both into pulps. Hot Pie hadn’t been there, he hadn’t seen it, so he just munched down his popcorn and thought everything was fine. Arya pulled her knees up on the couch, resting her head on them.

“What’s up with you guys?” Hot Pie mumbled, mouth full of popcorn. “Neither one has said a word all night.” 

She glanced past the chubby boy to look at Gendry, but he just shook his head and watched the TV. 

“Gendry, I’m sorry,” Arya mumbled. “I thought...Jaquen told me it wouldn’t be that bad, I didn’t know.”

Earlier that day Jaquen had told her that one of the two men was in a coma, and the other was hospitalized with a punctured lung, several broken ribs, a broken arm, two broken legs and a concussion. Gendry didn’t know, and there was no chance Arya would tell him.

He shook his head again. “I know.” 

Hot Pie looked from Gendry to Arya and back, mouth wide open.

“So why are you mad at me?” 

“I’m not mad at you. I’m just quiet.” He finally turned his head to look at her. 

She turned her head back to the TV, but she was only quiet for a few seconds. “Do you have any smokes for me? I’m out.” 

“Left jacket pocket.” Gendry glared at her. “No indoors smoking.” 

Arya sighed and got up from the couch. “I know, I know. Your dad’s rules, whatever.” 

Hot Pie just started after her as she went to the hallway, searching through the pockets of Gendry’s old army jacket (it used to belong to his father, and it was a bit too big for Gendry) for the pack of cigarettes. Closing the door, she sat down on the porch steps, as far from the door as she could to keep the smoke from the house, and opened the pack. She grabbed her own lighter from the pocket of her pants and lit one.

Half the cigarette had turned to ashes when the door opened behind her, and Gendry sat down by her on the steps. “Share that, will you?” 

Arya handed him the cigarette without even looking at him. He was quiet for a long time, and she started wondering what Hot Pie was thinking, all alone in the living room. He probably thought about the popcorn bowl in his lap.

“I’m just worried, alright?” 

“About what,” she mumbled, arms crossed.

“About you, Arya. I worry about you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, another sort of filler chapter that doesn't really add anything to the story! Oh well.


	12. Sansa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No chapter has ever made me so uncomfortable to write but...I still did it.
> 
> Trigger warning: uncomfortable (but non-abusive and very much consensual, even though I wrote it clumsily - she very much consents!!!!) sex???

His lips were on Sansa’s throat, worshipping the soft skin beneath her jaw. She made a low humming sound as he nibbled her collarbones, but her breath caught in her throat as Joffrey’s hand travelled downwards and found it’s way into her pants.

“What are you doing?” she whispered.

Joffrey grinned - she knew because she felt his teeth against her throat. “You know what I’m doing…” 

Sansa smiled weakly, for a moment considering what was about to happen. She felt her hands shaking as she went back to kissing him. He left small kisses all over her skin as she shed her clothes, and his hand never left the spot between her legs, clumsily fondling Sansa through her underwear. 

She only felt relieved that she didn’t have to inquire about protection, as he soon enough pulled out a drawer on his bedside table, and she closed her eyes. Joffrey’s loud breathing seemed to take up the whole room as she embraced him, and Sansa just smiled.

Afterwards, she sighed happily and rested her head on Joffrey’s chest, until he yawned, slipped off the bed and put his pants back on. 

“I have a game tonight, you’ll be there, right?” He gave her that crooked smile. “Of course you’ll be. Anyways, we’ve got some prepping before the game so I need to go soon, do you want a ride home?”

“Oh, yes, thank you,” Sansa chirped and put her own clothes back on.

On the way out the door, Joffrey tried to discretely smack Sansa’s behind, and she just giggled in response, unsure of what else to do.

Well at home she went straight to the shower; she couldn’t explain it, it wasn’t that she felt dirty, it was just a strong feeling that she was supposed to take a shower after something like that. The citrus shampoo, the honey body wash, all the nice scents just amplified her happiness.

Margaery had told her about sex, so many times. Sansa had asked about it, she had been so terribly curious about what it felt like, the various things you could do to satisfy your partner. Margaery knew so much more than Sansa, and she had tried to answer all of Sansa’s questions, but Sansa hadn’t always been all that satisfied with the answers. She tried the internet - only on nights when most of the family was out, and she always made sure to delete the browser history - and sometimes magazines but they didn’t tell her anything Margaery hadn’t said. She had been told that it wasn’t as fun for women as it was for men, but Sansa had hoped that Margaery had lied about that. 

Perhaps she had been telling the truth after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah. There's a thing I never thought I'd write. 
> 
> Anyhow, I didn't want to make Joff out to be some sort of rapist (consent probably isn't his main concern but it's not like he's forcing himself on her? Every time rape is mentioned in the books I just...cringe and want to go hide somewhere, it makes me so uncomfortable (I mean in the books most women don't get a chance to defend themselves, they don't carry weapons and nobody cares what they say, and that scares me a lot - it's also why Gregor Clegane, despite being a fictional character, scares the fuck out of me).
> 
>  
> 
> Additionally, please think about this: Sansa's search phrases are probably statements, like "sex hurts" and "men enjoy sex more than women" so of course she mostly gets answers that "confirm" those statements.


	13. Sandor

The victory left a bitter taste in Sandor’s mouth. Joffrey had spent half an hour bragging about how he fucked Sansa right before the game, and for some reason it made Sandor’s stomach twist. He’d seen her waving and cheering during the game, and every time she smiled his mood got worse. In the end, he’d broken the nose of the other teams star player, and possibly given him a concussion as well (it had been dismissed as an accident, but Sandor knew very well what he was doing when he tackled the boy). 

Most of the team had tagged along to the fast food place, along with the girlfriends of many of the players(and in Loras Tyrell’s case: boyfriend, even though they both denied it). Sandor regretted going there at all when Sansa and Joffrey sat down at his table, Sansa more excited than the boy about their victory.

“It was amazing, I’m so proud of you, Joff!” Sansa cheered while her boyfriend stuffed his face with fries. 

Sandor mocked them with disgusted noises whenever they kissed (which they did a lot) and tried to finish his food as fast as he could. When it appeared as though Joffrey had abandoned his burger in favour of Sansa’s face, Sandor rolled his eyes, stood up and left. Carrying his leather jacket under his arm, he walked the short distance back to his rusty old car, jerked the door open and drove away.

He stomped in through the door of the yellow old house and left all his clothes scattered on the floor as he made his way to the shower. Cold water and soap calmed him, and allowed him to relax a bit. When he was done in the bathroom, a clean pair of jeans on, he quickly gathered up all of his clothes and gear, worried Gregor would get angry about the mess he’d made. 

On his way back up the stairs he heard the low mumbling from the living room: “Sandor...Sandor is that you…”

Sandor sighed and approached the couch. “Yes, dad. Go back to sleep,” he said and covered his father up to his chin with the blanket he’d manage to shake off.

His father mumbled and cursed at his son - he was drunk again, bottles strewn across the floor - as Sandor went back upstairs, dumped his clothes on the chair in his room and laid down in the bed. When he woke back up, a quick glance at the clock on his wall told him he’d slept through the whole night, so he got dressed, made himself some coffee and headed to work. Only when he patted his jacket pockets, expecting to feel his phone did he realize it wasn’t with him. _Fucking hell...did I lose it?_

Sandor sighed and left the driveway, reluctantly accepting the loss of his phone. He entered through the front door and was soon greeted by a huge black dog, a tibetan mastiff called Boomer, who proceeded to lick at Sandor’s hands and happily bark at him, tail wagging as he did.

“Sorry, he bolted again!” squealed Irri, the girl whose main job was to work the register and answer the phone - he figured Boomer’s owners had dropped him off earlier than expected, and Irri had attempted to handle him herself.

He shrugged and turned his attention to the dog, grabbing it’s collar firmly and leading it to through the door behind Irri. “Come on, you big bear, let’s get you into your cage.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well I'm not all that pleased with this chapter but...
> 
> Also, we got a tiny look at Sandor's job! And his dad...
> 
> (Oh, and I mainly use names from the show since I'm sooo bad at coming up with names, the only name that's not from the show is that huge dog's name, I just googled for good names for Tibetan Mastiff's. Can you guess whose dog it is? It's completely irrelevant for the plot who the owner is, but care to guess anyways?)


	14. Jon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3000 hits! This is officially my second most popular fic ever!

Jon worried so much about texting her - he was on the third week of wondering whether he should or not. Maybe he had missed his window. She’d probably forgotten all about the poor drunk sod she danced with for hours, she’d moved on to someone new. He didn’t even know her name.

“Maybe you should. If she wrote her name on your arm, she must’ve liked you well enough,” Samwell said with a sad smile. “She must’ve wanted you to call her, or text her, or something.”

Jon nodded, tapping the phone against his face. “Perhaps-”

Pyp leapt forth and grabbed it before Jon could react, and ran out from the kitchens through the back (only barely missing Grenn who was carrying half a dozen bowls of soup) and Jon ran after him. He lost sight of the other boy as his apron got caught on a sharp edge, ripping it in half, and he could hear one of the cooks shouting after him but he kept running.

When he made it out to the back of the restaurant, Pyp - leaned against the brick wall of the alley - grinned widely at him and threw his phone back. “Sent!” he proudly declared.

Jon’s face was blank for a moment, and then he understood what had just happened. “No. No, no, no! She’s going to laugh at me, she won’t even remember who I am!”

‘ _Wanna go out some time? _’ was the text that had been sent, and the words echoed through his head.__

Pyp patted his back. “Sorry, I had to do that, was worried you’d never be ready for it. I did like a mama bird and pushed my little birdling from the nest.”

Had the phone not made a small notification sound in that very moment, Jon feared he would have lost it completely. But instead, the little ‘ping’ from the phone took him by surprise and he stared down at it, at the little bubble that appeared in the conversation.

‘ _Is this Jon? You busy saturday?_ ’, she wrote.

Distantly, he heard Sam and a handful of the others follow them out into the alley behind the restaurant, all of them still in aprons and a few even with ladles and knives, interrupted in the middle of their cooking.

“Pyp. What do I tell her?” he asked, shoving the phone into his friend’s face to show the response. “Do I say yes? She remembers me!”

“Fuck, Jon, just say yes!” 

‘ _Sure, did you have something in mind?_ ’

His friends all grinned widely at him - ‘their little boy’, even though he was older than some of them - as they walked back inside. He got a few choice words from the kitchen master about what had just happened, but soon enough he was back to cooking, sending Pyp and Grenn out with the dishes that had been ordered while they were gone.

When his phone made another notification sound, he discretely stole a glance at the text she’d sent him.

‘ _Give me your address, I’ll come pick you up at noon on Saturday ;)_ ’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot about Jon and the phone number for a while there...sorry 'bout that, but I bet Jon is really really nervous about screwing it up so he just puts it off until he screws it up by not doing anything. Or, he would have, if it weren't for Pyp.


	15. Sansa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the lack of updates all of a sudden! I'm afraid my own life has interfered a bit with my writing time, but I'm trying my best not to forget about the fic!

Sansa smiled to herself as she carefully parked the car in the square, firmly pulled the handbrake and turned off the car. She’d borrowed her mother’s car for the day (she was very thankful that Catelyn’s car was automatic) in order to get around in town. Joffrey had actually suggested himself that Sansa would be the one to return Sandor’s phone - it must’ve fallen out from his jacket pocket when he left them at the fast food restaurant the other day - as Joffrey had a test that afternoon followed by a family dinner at his uncle’s house, while Sansa would be done at the university a bit earlier than normal.

‘K-9 DayCare’ read the big sign over the door, with a pawprint on each side of the letters, and Sansa nearly called Joffrey to ask if he was really sure Sandor worked here. Instead, she stepped out of the car and walked straight in through the door. The girl by the counter looked up, eyebrows raised.

“Can I help you?” she asked, and as Sansa came closer she saw the little name tag on the girl’s chest which said ‘Irri’, followed by a pawprint. 

She wondered if Sandor had one of those cute name tags.

“Yes, is Sandor Clegane here? I’m a friend of his. Sort of.”

Irri smiled at her. “Alright, I’ll go tell him.” She then disappeared through one of the doors behind the counter.

A few minutes later, she reappeared with Sandor following close behind. “Sansa? What are you doing here?” 

“You must’ve dropped your phone yesterday, so I figured I’d return it to you,” she said, smiling a bit at the name tag on his shirt - like she’d wondered, it had his name in rounded letters followed by a pawprint - and holding out his phone for him.

He gaped at her slightly and took his phone. “Huh, I thought I’d lost it.” 

Sansa gave a slight chuckle, not sure what to say. When Sandor didn’t say anything either - merely looking through his phone, perhaps to see if anyone had called or texted while he’d been apart from it - she became quite aware of the strange silence. Irri seemed to politely ignore them, scribbling down things on a piece of paper. 

“Maybe I should-” she started, but became silent when she realized Sandor was talking as well.

“Do you...want to see some of the dogs?” he asked, eyebrows raised as if he was as surprised as her to hear it. “I mean, unless you have somewhere to be. Meeting someone other than me is probably good for them.” 

“Oh! I’d love to, I love dogs!” She practically beamed at him, following as he went back through the door he’d used when Irri had led him to the reception.

Dogs of all sizes came rushing toward them when Sandor opened the door to the yard in the back, and Sansa squealed with delight.


	16. Arya

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that things are going so slow! Also sorry that updates will possibly get even slower since I'm getting my job back soon. Sorry!

The sun was still up, glowing brightly onto Winterfell street when Gendry’s white car rolled up by the Stark residence. He had even bothered to go all the way up the driveway, giving Arya a much shorter distance to walk before she could jump into the car with a grin.

“Hot Pie usually has time for food, isn’t it kind of weird he couldn’t come?” she said as she put on her seatbelt.

Gendry smiled nervously. “Yeah...”

“What’s up with you? You look...pale.” Arya crossed her arms over her chest. “You didn’t ask him, did you?” 

He glanced at her quickly, and then looked back to the road - he hadn’t even started the car yet. “No…”

She glared at him, waiting for him to explain why, say something; when he didn’t, she leaned forward a bit so he’d look at her and spoke up. “So are you going to tell me what’s going on? Don’t lie to me, Gendry, you know I can probably beat you up.” 

He took a deep breath, and his face turned red. “I-...when I asked you out, I meant it more like a...date. Sorry, I guess I...wasn’t very clear about that.”

“What?” The stern look on Arya’s face disappeared, and she looked at him with wide eyes while he squirmed uncomfortably. 

“I sort of like you. I mean, you’re funny and you’re pretty cute and...I don’t know. Can we just pretend it never happened?” 

She sunk back into her seat a bit, and let a tiny “oh” escape her lips. For a little while, the two of them were just quiet, and Arya considered exiting the car and going back inside, to her own home. Gendry kept biting his lip and scratching gently on the wheel, and she figured he must be dying for her to say something.

“Let’s go then,” she eventually mumbled. “To the restaurant. Let’s go.”

He looked at her, eyebrows raised and his mouth slightly open. 

“What are you waiting for?” Arya muttered. “Let’s go before I change my mind!”

This time, Gendry first closed his mouth and then opened it, as if to say something, and then closed it again. He started the car and drove off with her; it was more of a fast food place than a restaurant, and Arya ordered first. Only, when the food was done, Gendry insisted he’d pay for it, and Arya elbowed him to change his mind.

“Thanks for taking me out, Gendry,” she said between the bites of her hamburger.

He mumbled something in return - she couldn’t tell what - and she let go of the burger with one hand to put it over one of his hands. Gendry’s ears turned a bright red as he struggled to hide a smile.


	17. Sansa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a very anti-Valentines chapter, despite me uploading it on Valentines...

Sansa laughed with the rest when the main character in the movie laughed a witty joke at one of his friends. Joffrey kept his arm around her. Sandor, Meryn and Boros never addressed her, they only talked to each other. Well, Sandor barely talked at all, he just mumbled responses to the others. It wasn’t a big deal though, she kept herself entertained enough, texting with Margaery. 

“It’s kind of supposed to be an evening with the guys, you shouldn’t really be there either but since you’re my girlfriend it’s alright,” Joffrey had said when Sansa wanted to invite Margaery, and she had just nodded.

It was fun enough, to be watching a movie with them. Joffrey picked the movie: it was his (parents’) house, so he picked the movie, he picked where he’d sit on the couch, he chose who was invited and who wasn’t. 

“Sansa, go get the crisps. They’re in the cupboard in the kitchen, by the fridge,” Joffrey demanded, as if he was ordering her around. 

She smiled slightly. “I’m not a slave, you know,” she joked and turned a bit to look at him.

He wasn’t smiling though, he looked almost angry as he glared at her. “I said, get the crisps.”

Sansa’s smile disappeared completely, and she glanced at Joffrey’s friends, as if one of them would say she heard him wrong. Meryn and Boros just started at the TV, and Sandor looked at Joffrey with one eyebrow raised, but when he noticed Sansa was looking at him, he quickly looked away. 

“Go,” Joffrey said with a stern voice, and Sansa - shocked by his tone - got up from the couch and did as she was told.

She found the crisps fast enough, but when she took them out from the cupboard she found that she had no desire to go back to the living room. Sansa had half a mind to call Margaery, or Robb, or Theon to come pick her up from there. When she’d been standing there with the bag of crisps in her hand for a few minutes, Joffrey’s mother entered the kitchen, a small smile on her lips.

“Shouldn’t you be in the living room with the boys?” she asked, and there was something cold about her tone.

“Yes, ma’m, I was just getting some crisps.” Sansa took out a large bowl from a cupboard, emptied the bag into it and returned to the TV, where Joffrey’s reward to her was a slight tap on her behind.


	18. Jon

“So, Jon, are you ‘fraid o’ heights?” the redhead laughed as she drove.

“I- not particularly.” 

Ygritte was speeding quite a bit as she drove, and Jon tried to keep his eyes on the road. Despite what looked to Jon like careless driving, she parked very carefully at the parking lot for a small building. He merely followed, as she led him inside, handed him clothes and various gear - at one point he obediently showed his ID. Not until they were outdoors again, in the back of the building, did Jon understand what they were doing. 

“Parachuting?” He looked at her questioningly.

“What, are you scared?” she said in a mocking tone.

Jon straightened his back a bit. “No, but shouldn’t there be an instructor of some sort for this? I mean I’ve never done this-” 

“That’d be me.” Ygritte smiled widely.

He raised his eyebrows at that, and she only laughed at him and gave him a few instructions about how he should try to not flap his arms around and such. She laughed again when they were falling from a plane mid-air, and Jon only altered between screaming, and being completely silent (mostly in fear). When they landed again - quite gently - she pinched his cheek before rolling up the parachute.

“I thought you said you weren’t ‘fraid o’ heights!”

“Well I didn’t know I was going to fall from a plane while strapped together with you!” He tried to help her with the parachute, but she slapped his hands away.

“So, where do you want to eat?” she asked with a grin once they were removing all their gear.

Jon frowned at her. “Eat? Food is literally the last thing on my mind right now!” 

“Fine, suit yourself. I suppose I’ll eat and you can watch.”

Still, Jon ordered food once they got there, and once he’d calmed down a bit he was rather thankful for the parachuting; nobody he knew had done something like that, and he couldn’t wait to rub it in Theon’s face, as Theon would always call him names for not being as daring. 

She drove him home, and when he tried to leave the car, she grabbed his hand and pulled him back. “Don’t I even get a kiss?” 

He blushed - though she could probably not see it that well, since the sun was just setting - and quickly gave her a light kiss. Ygritte let go of his hand and laughed a bit.

“That’ll do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how I feel about this chapter...


	19. Arya

The worst part about the dinner wasn’t the fact that Joffrey was there, but rather that Arya’s parents had been the ones to invite him. 

“We want to meet the boy Sansa has been talking so much about,” they said. “Why don’t we invite him for dinner on wednesday?” 

They already had met him, though. Every time her father had dinner at Robert Baratheon’s house, he met Joffrey, but apparently that didn’t count. Her mother had met him a few times too, but Arya supposed she wanted to impress Sansa’s boyfriend with her cooking. 

“You have such a nice house, Mrs. Stark,” Joffrey declared in a sweet voice - _as if he’s never seen it before, I know Sansa brings him up to her room sometimes_ \- when he was greeted at the door.

Every single word he said sounded so fake, like he was pretending the whole time, and Arya felt like she was the only one who could hear it. He complimented the food, he complimented their clothes, he was fake all the way through and Arya knew it. She could see his disgusted expression when dinner was served, though it was only there for a few seconds. 

Joffrey laughed with Robb and Bran in the living room, Sansa sitting by quietly with a wide smile, but Jon could probably sense it too, so he stayed by the table with Arya. When they had dessert, Joffrey made the same disgusted expression.

“Mom, I love this dessert,” Sansa exclaimed at the sight of dessert - apricots with melted chocolate and ice cream.

“I couldn’t possibly eat more, I’m so full from dinner still! Sansa, would you like mine?” Joffrey asked with that faked smile, and when Sansa accepted he kissed her, making Arya feel nauseous. 

Once Arya was done she put her bowl in the dishwasher and skipped through the living room. “Thanks for the dinner, I’ll be upstairs.” 

But soon enough, Sansa came upstairs too, Joffrey close behind. She couldn’t hear what they were saying, but she guessed Sansa was explaining who lived in which room, and then she went into her own room with her boyfriend. 

Arya could barely hear it due to the music streaming from her speakers, but the was a strange, sudden sound that caught her attention. It didn’t come back, but she couldn’t help but wonder. So she walked across the hall and knocked on Sansa’s door.

“Did you hear that sound just now?” 

And Sansa voice sounded terribly shaky when she responded. “Yeah, I just tripped and hit my head on the dresser.” She laughed a bit. “It’s fine, you can go...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things just keep getting worse!!!


	20. Sandor

It was so easy to turn down an invite when it came from Joffrey. Sandor had little desire to watch the blond kid mistreat Sansa again, if it came to that, and nothing Joffrey said could change it (Sandor had thought about Joffrey’s harsh words all week, and decided he would stop hanging out with Joffrey). But once Sandor had gently pushed a small dog into its cage and made sure it had water, he went to the locker room and found that he had half a dozen unimportant messages from Joffrey, and one from Sansa Stark.

‘ _Joff says you don’t want to come to the party. Please come along, it’ll be fun! ~Sansa Stark_ ’ it said, signed since she probably didn’t know Sandor had her number - Joffrey had given it to him, of course. 

Meekly, he sent back a promise that he’d go to the party, and asked if she needed a ride. Sansa gave him her address, as if he didn’t already know - Joffrey didn’t seem to care for his girlfriend’s private information the way he should. 

When he picked Sansa up later that evening (after a small, one-sided argument with his brother, who barked at him madly for not doing the dishes, which earned him a red mark on his cheek) she first looked a bit unsure about approaching his car, walking toward it slowly in a bright skirt that barely reached her knees. When she finally recognized him in the driver’s seat, she jumped into the passenger seat with a smile.

“I’m so glad you decided to come to the party!” she said while she put her seatbelt on. “Margaery would’ve come along but she’s terribly sick. I talked to her on the phone, and in the middle of the conversation she had to throw up…Poor Margaery, that can’t be fun.”

Sandor mostly grunted or mumbled in response to the things she said, but it he preferred her talking to any awkward silence that might have been if she had been quiet the whole ride. She spoke of Margaery, and about her family (apparently her sister had disappeared, but her father’s friend had found the girl again) and then of Joffrey (Sandor let his mind wander at this, not quite so interested in the topic anymore). When he parked neatly by the Baratheon-Lannister mansion - it was too big to be anything else but a mansion - he hesitated for a moment, wondered if he really wanted to go to this party.

“What are you waiting for?” Sansa laughed, as she jumped out of the car.

So he followed her inside, and paid little mind to the people greeting him once they entered. There were people he couldn’t even name who tried to talk to him as though they knew him, and when he finally found someone he recognized he let Sansa go ahead. 

“I’ll go find Joffrey,” she said and disappeared in the crowd.

Sandor spoke some of his team members before he decided to go find the host of the party as well, poking his head into various rooms until he found the host and his girlfriend, surrounded by some of Joffrey’s other friends, in the living room. Sansa sat on the floor, on her knees, with Joffrey standing over her. Taking a few steps into the room, he realized the floor was full of glass - glass from the coffee table that was now broken.

“What the fuck did you do?” he growled at Joffrey, fists clenched to keep himself from strangling the kid.


	21. Sansa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to apologize for the lack of updates lately! I recently got my job back, and I'm having a rather rough time getting used to it. I tried my best to not make this chapter half-arsed, as it was one of the scenes I had pictured before I even began the story. Of course, it didn't turn out as I had hoped, since the words seemed so clumsy and inaccurate to me a while into the chapter, and I had to google to make sure I wasn't using the wrong words.
> 
> EDIT: _Also_ , this fic now has over 5000 hits!!! I'm so excited and glad that people seem to like this silly fic!

“I’m so stupid,” she sobbed, leaning forward so her hair fell in front of her face.

“You’re not.” Sandor rummaged through one of the bathroom cabinets, in search of a First Aid Kit. “I’m not even half as smart as you, so you insult us both by claiming that you’re stupid.” 

Sansa shook her head. “I am though. If I had just sat down on the couch, I wouldn’t have been in the way. It was just a light shove, he couldn’t have known I’d fall over and break the table.”

Sandor grunted and turned around to kneel by her where she sat on the lid of the toilet. “Maybe he shouldn’t have shoved you at all.” 

She bit her tongue and forced the tears from her eyes once he began cleaning the wounds with a wet towel - it had been red originally, so the blood would leave no noticeable stains - and proceeded to place a large compression bandage over each knee. The few wounds along her legs got normal bandaids, carefully applied with Sandor’s steady hand. 

“Did he leave a mark on your face?” he mumbled as he stood back up.

Sansa only tilted her head up, letting her hair fall back from her face so Sandor could see the red mark on her cheek, a small wound left by one of Joffrey’s rings.

He touched the wound gently, and used the towel to wipe away the few drops of blood that had escaped. “Do you want me to put a bandaid on it?” 

“No, my parents will see it…” Her voice was barely a whisper. 

“Your parents will see the wound either way, Little Bird.”

She stared at him in silence, a bit hunched over, and he stared back for a few seconds before putting the bandaids and bandages back in their drawer. Without a word, Sandor then left the bathroom, and when Sansa regained the ability to move her legs, she followed him. When she caught up to him, he already had his hand on the doorknob, ready to leave.

“Wait, do you think...could you give me a ride back home? I don’t feel like staying here anymore…” 

Sandor nodded and went out to wait for her in the car while she retrieved her bag and the light jacket she’d worn when they got there. She slid into the passenger seat after a few minutes, and stayed silent almost the whole ride. 

Only when he pulled up on Winterfell Street did she seem to find her voice, though she still sounded so fragile when she spoke. “Thank you. For stopping him, and for the bandages, and for being so nice to me.”

Sandor merely nodded.


	22. Arya

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Due to getting my job back, I've been a little too tired to write (and I'm at a low part right now, so that doesn't inspire me). I'm terribly sorry about that!! I really do think about this fic a lot, but writing can be very difficult sometimes. I hope you understand!
> 
> Because of this, I apologize for any...inaccurate portrayals of the characters in this chapter! I don't know what happened, but I don't want to delete the whole chapter because I'm worried the next one is a while away.

The rain was pouring down, crashing onto the hood of the car and slamming against the windows. They had left Jaquen’s house - his house, this time, not the shady cabin in the woods - when Jaquen threw in a few discreet insults whenever he spoke to Gendry. Arya had stood up and decided it was time to leave then.

“Are you pushing?” Gendry shouted, and she could barely hear him with the loud rain drowning out every other noise. 

She braced against the car so hard she only slid around in the mud. “I’m trying!” 

He got out from his car and stood by her. “I’ll push, you just gently press on the gas pedal, alright?” 

For once, Arya did as she was told without arguing. Her clothes were drenched, but the carseat was already wet from Gendry’s own clothes. When she touched the gas pedal, she could feel the tires sliding in the mud as well, unable to get a grip anywhere. She paused, realizing it wouldn’t work, and Gendry climbed in on the passenger side, mud all over his shoes and hands and even up the knees of his jeans. 

“Maybe we should call someone to pick us up? I don’t think we’ll get the car from this ditch any time soon. I’ll just come back and pull it up tomorrow.” Gendry shivered a bit. 

So Arya called for help. Cold and wet, she climbed over on the passenger side, folding herself over Gendry - “What are you doing, they’ll be here soon!”, he hissed, blushing hard, but she remained there in silence, absorbing the little heat he had. An eternity later, Jon turned up, sitting in the passenger seat while a stranger drove and another sat in the back, but they weren’t driving the silver car Ned Stark owned, nor the white one Jon had bought for himself. Instead, they turned up in a large, black Jeep.

“Do you want to make one last attempt at getting the car from the ditch?” Jon asked when Gendry had made his way out of the car, following Arya.

“It can’t hurt, but it’s pretty stuck.”

“Well that’s why we brought the Jeep,” said the driver, Grenn, with a wide smile. 

A towing hook, three strong men pushing, and Arya tapping the gas pedal a little was enough to bring the car onto the road again. A hug and a handshake later, Jon and his friends left, and Gendry followed them for a bit, turning right to Winterfell Street where the black Jeep went left. 

“Sorry about all that.” Gendry rubbed his neck sheepishly, his hair already drying. 

“It’s not like it was your fault,” Arya said with a snort, and kissed him gently on the lips.

He turned a dark shade of red, and mumbled a goodbye as she went inside to wash her clothes and take a hot shower.


	23. Margaery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A guest appearance by Margaery!

She’d seen it with her own eyes, on more than one occasion - he’d shove Sansa around, call her names and laugh when he made her embarrass herself. It’s not like she had to see it anyways, Margaery trusted Sansa’s word. 

“He shoved me so hard I fell over the glass table, and-a-a-...” Sansa had sobbed into the phone the weekend before, when Margaery had been sick at home. 

With a hoarse voice, Margaery had tried her best to comfort her friend. She’d accompanied Sansa nearly everywhere throughout the week, never leaving her alone with Joffrey, and even suggested a sleepover when the weekend came. Bowls full of snacks, a handful of their favourite movies, and the whole family were all out of the house, with the exception of Bran, who kept his friends confined in his room. Leaned against the pillows of Sansa’s bed, they watched a movie - or in Margaery’s case, she watched Sansa watch a movie.

“Maybe I should break up with him…” Sansa pondered, and Margaery nodded enthusiastically.

“You should! I don’t like the way he looks at you sometimes, and you said yourself that he hurts you!” She stuffed her mouth with sweets.

“What if he tries to hurt me? What if he won’t let me leave him?” Sansa sighed.

Margaery sat up a bit, supporting herself on her elbows. “Look, here’s what we’re gonna do. Tomorrow, Renly’s having yet another party. Joffrey’s going, we both know that. I’ll be there, Renly and Loras will be there, and I’m sure you can ask Sandor to come too, you said he seems to care, and he’s at least three times as big and strong as Joffrey. If that little dick thinks he hurt you tomorrow, he’s going to get thrown from the top floor. We won’t let him hurt you, I promise.”

At this, Sansa smiled a little, a sad smile. She mouthed a “thanks” but continued to look at Margaery. Heart beating like a drum, Margaery leaned forward a little, and then a little more, and she could’ve sworn she had no idea how it happened but suddenly her lips were on Sansa’s. 

Only, Sansa tensed up completely, so Margaery pulled away with a shocked expression. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t-” 

Sansa’s voice was just a whisper when she replied. “It’s alright.” And then she leaned in toward Margaery and blessed her with a soft kiss, and Margaery’s chest was filled with butterflies for a moment.

“I’m sorry but I don’t know-” Sansa mumbled. “I’m sorry I gave you false hopes just now. That was really stupid of me. I don’t want to hurt you, I really don’t.” 

And Margaery smiled. “Don’t worry. We’ll still be friends, right? It doesn’t have to be more. We don’t have to be more.”


End file.
